


A Merry old Inn

by AngelynMoon



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Future Fic, Gen, M/M, Semi-retirement
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:48:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22132045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelynMoon/pseuds/AngelynMoon
Summary: Geralt returns from his travels to see an old friend.So I wrote this with the idea that Jaskier and Geralt are in a relationship but I suppose it can be read as just friendship, at least I think it can, let me know if I'm wrong.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 19
Kudos: 204





	1. Chapter 1

Geralt is heading back from a monster fight, he's tired but he can't stop yet, not when he is so close. 

There is an inn up ahead, it's lively and bright, it always is, no matter the time and Geralt can hear music from within, he smiles, he knows this song, knows that voice.

He settles his horse, Roach has long been retired, she lives happily with foals of her own, growing fat and old.

The inn quiets as he enters as it always does, the bard pausing his song, he turns and graces Geralt with a smile as he always does.

"Welcome home, Witcher." Jaskier says, fingers dancing along his lute, old but well cared for, just like the bard himself.

Geralt hums as he approaches the bard, tucks his face into the other's neck.

The bard's hands go to his hair, laughing.

"A bath for my White Wolf!" Jaskier calls and the barkeep rushes to get one ready.

Geralt stays where he is, arms holding his bard, he knows that one day he will return to this inn and find it is home no longer, find that his bard sings his songs with a higher choir.

It's coming soon, Geralt knows, Jaskier is growing older, his dark hair greying, laugh lines lingering and Geralt still holds his youthful image, the same as when they first met all those years ago as Jaskier always notes.

Some days Geralt wishes it weren't so, wishes that he aged as Jaskier did but then they would never have met, would they.

So Geralt contents himself with this, this inn that is home only for the man that built it when he grew too old to follow after him, who promised Geralt free bed, bath, ale, and food hoping to entice the Witcher to come see him from time to time, not knowing then that he needn't bother, that Geralt would come even if he had to pay just to see a friendly face.

But the protection of a Witcher and the endorsement of a Queen had kept business high for Jaskier, allowing him to hire a barkeeper and for him to sing to his patrons.

And Geralt would arrive every few months without fail, would stay a while, making sure that no creatures had enroached too close to the inn or the town, he'd eat Jaskier's food, drink his ale and listen to the songs he'd weaved since they'd last seen one another and Geralt would tell him the simplest version of his journeys and listen to his bard begin a new ballad, a new tale of the White Wolf, he'd fall asleep to the bard's soft strumming.

Geralt dreaded the day he learned that those fingers strummed no more, perhaps he'd begin to carry a lute on his travels, a worn, well cared for instrument that he didn't know how to play, and a dozen songs composed by a long buried bard.

A fool that had dared to love an emotionless creature.

Except, perhaps, this Witcher had one emotion left to feel.

\---

A/n: this was supposed to be a fluffy story where Jaskier builds an inn when he can't follow Geralt anymore and where Geralt come and sees him, it was supposed to be a cute, fluffy semi-retirement piece and then there were sad emotions where Geralt remembers that he ages slower and Jaskier is more than likely going to die before him.

I'm so sorry.


	2. Chapter 2

Geralt woke to a soft tune, he usually did when he found himself at the Inn.

This tune was different, soft but there was an undertone of sadness, something that Geralt was unused to hearing from Jaskier's lute.

His bard was sitting in bed, back against the headboard, Geralt's head pillowed on his thigh, every now and again the bard would pause and run his fingers through Geralt's white hair, the fingers would linger, soft and gentle almost like the bard was committing something to memory.

Geralt lay still, keeping his breathing even, his eyes closed, perhaps he too was committing something to memory.

The bard began to hum, something that always preluded the man singing his newest tune.

"Away you go, away you ride   
Leaving me behind." The bard sang softly, "You've done it before, you do it often.  
And still I wait,  
Still I wait."

The bard paused, his fingers tracing down Geralt's face.

"There's a road, never empty, yet often so,  
It does not bring my Witcher to me but once.  
There you go,  
There you come,   
And I wait,   
I always wait."

The bard's fingers played a sad few notes.

"One day, one day the road will remain empty.  
My Witcher gone, lost and far from me.  
The road deserted, barren.  
My White Wolf howls no more.  
And still I wait,   
And still I wait.  
My Witcher does not return.  
And still I wait,  
I always will."

Geralt listened to his Bard's song, a song he suspected he was never meant to hear.

It was a song of worry, of fear, and suddenly Geralt knew that he was not the only one to think their time together was short.

His bard worried that one day Geralt would be overcome and would not return to the Inn that he called home and suddenly Geralt worried over it as well.

As skilled as he was, skill was not always enough when faced with many monsters.

But he knew no other way of life, and he knew that Jaskier would not ask him to stay, the bard knew him too well.

Geralt shifted his body closer to the bard, buried his face in the other's side and threw his arm over the man's lap.

"Oh, you are awake, my White Wolf." The bard laughed as he set his lute to the side.

"No." Geralt growled as he tugged the bard down into his arms.

"Well, I suppose they can manage without me this morning." The bard hummed.

"They always do." Geralt agreed, tucking his bard under his chin, "Sleep. It's too early."

And Geralt fell asleep to his bard's laughter, the weight of him in his arms and he wondered if this would ever be enough for either of them, if these little moments could ever be enough to satisfy them.

And he knew the answer.

It would never be enough, a hundred years, more, it would never be enough.

\---

A/n: read a comment and my hand slipped, the song Jaskier sings is made up by me in like three minutes.

And this was done on my lunch break, hope you enjoy.


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